And to the holy man he did confess, And begged his absolution, which was granted, But still the deed so weighed upon his heart, That when his two companions did depart, He fain would have his own death-dirges chanted, To make an end of harrowing distress.
Such is the soul, that once attuned to peace, Must pass through Becca’s vale of dark remorse, In whom the joy of heav’n and grief of hell Are seeking one another to expel; Well then if the afflicted take recourse To Him who calms the storm and gives surcease.
The ruing of our sins, the soul’s repentance, The coming to oneself, and meeting God, Is, after all, the only way to rest, All else is but a vain and foolish quest, A hiding from the terror of His rod, A coward’s quailing for a righteous sentence.
For it is then, and only then, the Father Can meet His child, such as it left His home, Bestow the kiss of pardon and the love Of ring and raiment from His treasure trove, And bid him to the Palace with Him come, There with the tranquil spirits ever gather.
Sordino now, like Israel of old, Passed through the inner struggle with the Lord, Until the morning of his soul appeared, And with the light of victory him cheered, The brook of bitter weeping he did ford, And found beyond the comfort of God’s fold.
Deem it not strange that men of deeper thought, Retired to solitudes of woods and mountains, Where, by a life of pray’r and contemplation, They strove to find the soul’s complete salvation, And drink of heaven’s unpolluted fountains, And comprehend what God for man hath wrought.
The solitude, in which the hermit dwelt, Was deep and undisturbed by human strife, No sound was heard but nature’s matchless tones, Its song, the cry, the sigh, the wandering moans, Which lift the poet’s vision to a life, That has no language, but alone is felt.
Such quiet is a balm for wretched minds, A cooling water to the soul athirst; Sordino drank it like the cup of grace, In which you see the Saviour’s crownèd face, God spoke to him, not as to Cain accurst, But as a father, in the whispering winds.
Towards eve, that day, arrived his faithful aid, Who after stealthy search had found a ship For Ireland bound, to sail that very night; And in the dark, before the moon rose bright, They might into its hiding safely slip,-- The captain willing to be doubly paid.